Darcy laughed as he took her hands and tugged her to her feet. “I never thought I would see the day when my impertinent wife would be rendered speechless.”

Elizabeth buried her fingers in his hair and smiled against his lips. “Oh? So I am impertinent, am I, Mr. Darcy?”

“Oh, yes,” he murmured as his eyes darkened with a look that made Elizabeth’s heartbeat quicken. “The most impertinent woman I have ever known. Whatever shall I do with you, Mrs. Darcy?” he mused.

“I am certain, sir,” she said breathlessly, “you will think of something.” She smiled as she felt his arousal press against her stomach.

Darcy’s lips quirked into a rakish grin. “Ah. It seems I already have.”

Chapter 30

For Elizabeth, the evening of Lord and Lady Matlock’s ball was filled with equal parts anticipation and dread. She took extra care with her appearance, knowing full well she would be under close scrutiny from hundreds of pairs of discerning eyes, not only for her success in securing Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley for her husband, but for actually going so far as to capture his heart, as well.

Sonia was just putting the finishing touches on her mistress’s hair when Darcy entered Elizabeth’s apartment. She was seated at her dressing table and watched his reflection in the large beveled mirror as he approached. A smile graced his lips as he gazed upon her with open adoration. She returned it, beaming at him. Sonia tucked the last of Elizabeth’s curls in place and made a minor adjustment to the strands of tiny gems she had entwined in her mistress’s hair; then she stepped back so the master of Pemberley could better admire his wife.

Elizabeth turned her head from side to side and beamed. “Sonia, you have outdone yourself. I believe I have never before felt so lovely as I do tonight, not even on my wedding day. Thank you.”

Sonia bowed her head. “Thank you, ma’am. I am honored you approve.”

Darcy gave the young woman an appreciative smile. “Yes, Sonia. I daresay Mrs. Darcy is nothing short of breathtaking this evening; though, I must also point out that this is not an uncommon occurrence while in your capable hands.”

“Thank you, sir,” she answered with a blush, then, addressing her mistress, asked, “Will you require anything else, ma’am?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, that will be all, Sonia, thank you. Do not bother to wait up for me. I believe we will not be returning until very late.”

“Very good, ma’am,” Sonia replied as she curtsied and turned to leave.

The door had barely closed before Darcy had taken Elizabeth in his arms. “You look absolutely beautiful, Elizabeth,” he whispered against her ear. “Wearing the jewels in your hair is a lovely touch, but that gown—it becomes you, my love, in ways I never dared imagine. You are stunning.”

Elizabeth kissed him and rested her coiffed head upon his shoulder as she encircled his waist with her arms. “It is completely your own doing, you know,” she said, her voice carrying an impish inflection. “I have never before owned such an exquisite gown. It is beyond beautiful. Yellow is, by far, my favorite color, and I know I shall cherish such a gift for many Seasons to come. I hardly care whether or not it is deemed acceptable to be seen wearing the same gown more than once. I know London fashions change quickly, but, as the mistress of Pemberley, I believe I shall do as I like. Thank you, Fitzwilliam.”

Feathering a kiss upon the top of her head, Darcy smiled at her independent spirit and held her tighter. “I daresay you shall, and you are most welcome. I remember your sister once saying you have always wished to own such a gown—pale yellow silk the color of sunlight, a gown that would brighten the mood in even the darkest room. Tonight, Elizabeth, you will turn every head with your brilliance, and all of London will see precisely why I fell in love with you.”

Elizabeth raised her head, and their eyes met. “You are so wonderful to me. Sometimes I cannot help feeling I do not deserve you.”

Darcy fingered a rebellious curl at the nape of her neck as his other hand caressed her bare shoulder. “No,” he said, his voice serious. “You deserve a man far better than I, but I fear you are stuck with me for the remainder of our life together. You shall just have to make the most of it.”

His words and seriousness caused her to stiffen. Elizabeth placed her hand upon his cheek, and her eyes searched his. “I would never have it any other way. It is you I want. You I need. I love you. Do not ever forget that or take it lightly. You are the most important aspect of my life. You and this child I carry. I could never do without you, Fitzwilliam. Indeed, it troubles me to hear you speak so.”

Darcy closed his eyes, and just as he had done not so very long ago when they were alone together in the library at Netherfield, he turned his lips into her palm and kissed her. “I could never take your love lightly, Elizabeth. You have become more necessary to me than the air I breathe. I would be but a shell of a man without you to lighten my dark moods.”

The clock upon the mantle chimed seven times. Elizabeth stood on the tips of her slippered toes and kissed her husband’s cheek. “We had best depart if we are to be at your uncle’s on time, my dear,” she whispered as her eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “This is a joyous night, Fitzwilliam, and from what I understand, there is to be a waltz. What better way to celebrate our marriage than to dance with each other in our arms? Will that not be wonderful? It is something you have longed to do, is it not, my handsome husband?”

Darcy grinned. “Yes. I believe nothing shall give me greater pleasure tonight. Richard insists it is my uncle’s idea of a gift to us. Since he has witnessed my scandalous behavior toward you whenever my senses have become overwrought by your presence, I believe he views this as a perfect opportunity for me to appear in full company and hold you close without risking your respectability overmuch.” He smiled and caressed the length of her gloved arms. “I confess I am very much looking forward to it.”

And so he was, for when they arrived at Matlock House not a half hour later, Darcy found it difficult to stand sedately beside his wife in the receiving line—as was expected of him—to greet his aunt’s guests as they arrived. He was ever conscious of Elizabeth’s sweet fragrance and the feel of her body as he placed his hand upon the small of her back. His gaze was forever darting to and lingering upon the ample swell of her breasts, made even more enticing now that she was several months into her pregnancy. As expected, his actions did not go unnoticed by his uncle, who repeatedly cleared his throat while he attempted to hide his smile.

By the time the dancing began, Darcy was eager to lead Elizabeth to the center of the ballroom to open the festivities. He had been correct—every eye was, indeed, turned upon her, though not all in admiration, Miss Bingley’s narrowed slits included. Though Darcy’s blood still boiled whenever he thought of her ill treatment of Elizabeth, for the sake of his long-standing friendship with Bingley, he had asked his aunt to extend an invitation to both his friend’s sisters. To his relief, Elizabeth bore it all—the crowd, as well as Miss Bingley’s odious presence—with grace and dignity, her elegance, her wit, and her impeccable manners serving as further proof of her suitability as his wife.

The ball was a crush, and Darcy, though anxious for Elizabeth’s acceptance in society, found himself growing irritated by the attention she was receiving from the other men in attendance.

Elizabeth’s dance card was soon filled with the names of unknown gentlemen eager to become acquainted with the enchanting Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley.

Darcy could only watch as his wife was led through the dance by partner after partner, each of whom seemed to be captivated by her beauty and vivacity. Elizabeth was his. He did not wish to share her.

“You know, Darcy, if you are not careful, that scowl will become a permanent part of your countenance.”

Darcy only grunted in response to his cousin’s teasing remark. His gaze never wavered from Elizabeth as she danced with the handsome and accursedly agreeable Lord Abernathy, a good friend of his cousin Harold. The young man, several years Darcy’s junior, seemed to be mesmerized by her lively discourse, as well as her pleasing figure. Darcy took a sip of wine and asked dryly, “What do you think would happen if I were to call Abernathy out for making my wife smile? Am I well within my rights as a jealous husband, or should I wait until he does something a bit more untoward?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “Really, Darcy, this is a switch! I believe I have never before seen you thus. Usually, it is the other way around, and you are the one to inspire feelings of jealousy, but rather in handsome young ladies. It is about time you received a taste of your own medicine.”

“A taste of my own medicine, is it? Fitzwilliam, you imply I sought such favor from all of those fortune hunters and their matchmaking mamas. I assure you, I did not, and I believe you are well acquainted with that fact,” he said stiffly.

His cousin clapped him on the back and said, “Precisely, Darcy. Is it Elizabeth’s fault so many men find her as irresistible as you do? What would you have her do? She cannot refuse to dance with them and still be able to dance with you later, though you are her husband. I am afraid this indulgence is necessary in securing your wife’s place in society, and let me just add that it is working. They seem to love her.”

“Yes, well, I will not deny that the gentlemen are certainly charmed; however, at the first sign of love, I shall be forced to remove her to Pemberley, where, I might add, I would happily remain for the rest of my days.”